


Like a Bad Penny

by kijilinn



Category: No Country for Old Men (2007)
Genre: Drug trafficking, Escapes, F/M, Human Trafficking, Hunting, Multi, OC insert, Running, blowing up canon, he fucking deserved better, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijilinn/pseuds/kijilinn
Summary: Hundreds of pounds of heroin. Two million dollars. And one fierce woman with an unknown history. Llewelyn Moss is in WAY over his head.





	1. Chapter 1

The pitbull looked over its shoulder, stared at Llewelyn Moss as he stared back, then turned and started to limp away again. Llewelyn watched, looked down at the trail of blood at his feet. He followed the trail back to the circle of trucks where he went from body to body. Even the dog. When he lifted the tarp on the truck and saw the goods up for sale, he knew there was money. There had to be money. Inside the truck, he found the man half dead, his lips cracked. Llewelyn reached in to collect his gun and the man’s voice shattered: “Agua. Agua.”

“I ain’t got no agua,” Moss snapped. When he didn’t fall silent, Moss repeated, “Told you, I ain’t got water.” He reached all the way to the man’s chest and slipped the extra ammo clip from his breast pocket. “Where’s the last man standing?”

“Agua.”

“El ultimo hombre, where is he? Where’d he go?”

“Agua.”

Llewelyn sighed and stepped back. The man would be dead soon between his wounds and the thirst. Briefly, he considered putting him out of his misery, then decided against leaving his own bullets at the scene. When he turned to walk away, the man called after him in a panicked voice, “Sierra la puerta! Lobos…”

“There are no lobos,” he muttered. Llewelyn walked away, the door still sagging open behind him.

When he found the last man standing, he wasn’t standing anymore. Moss studied the corpse propped up in the shade of the tree. He reached under the man and retrieved the chromed pistol, glittering and ostentatious as hell. He dropped the clip into his hand, worked the slide to check the chamber, then reloaded and stuffed the pistol into the back of his jeans. He crouched to flip open the satchel at his feet. Bills. Stacks of wrapped hundreds, rough-edged and non-sequential. He picked one up and riffled through it before putting it back and closing the flap again. That was a lot of money.

“Agua.”

“Fuck me,” Moss sighed as he stood up and picked up the satchel. Nothing could ever be that simple.

“Agua,” the voice came again and he blinked, truly surprised for the first time since he had started tracking the dog’s blood. It was higher than he’d thought at first. Slowly, he circled the tree to the blind side he couldn’t have seen at a distance with his binoculars. “Please…”

There was a woman crumpled in the hollow of the tree’s roots. She looked up when Moss leaned over her hiding place and her face went from hopeful to terrified in an instant. “Please,” she begged and it was a different word than a moment before. She had gone from beseeching, requesting to protesting denial, anguish. She recoiled with her hands up, bound at the wrists with rough rope, and pulled her legs up to her belly like a cat ready to kick out in a fight.

Her face was streaked in dirt and blood, her shoulder-length hair matted in it. At first, he had thought she was Latina, but he saw her skin was paler under the dirt and freckled across her nose and cheeks. When she drew her legs up, the stained sundress rode up to show strong legs and he saw more of her body than was polite. Moss turned his head slightly, one hand up. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said finally. “Are you hurt?”

He listened to her breathing as it rasped in her throat, then she whispered, “My shoulder. A-and my side. Left side. I think the ribs are broken, but the guns missed me.” Moss shifted his view so he could see that she had pulled her legs down and her skirt with them. “Who are you?”

“Nobody.” He put his hand down and let his fingers rest on the thigh of his jeans, thinking. Shooting her would make the most sense, especially if he used one of their guns. He could tell she’d been through hell and she might even welcome the release, but the eyes she turned on him were stiffer than the weakness he heard in her voice. What was he going to do with a girl, though? Money he could spend, but he couldn’t exactly turn up at home with a half-dead Irish girl with rope burn on her wrists. Carla Jean would shit herself. “You got a name?”

“Lisa. Lisa Bitters.”

Now that she had a name, she had agency and Moss pushed the stolen assault rifle back from his hand by its strap. “Llewelyn Moss,” he replied and dropped himself down beside the hollow of tree roots. He offered her a hand and she wrapped both hands around his fingers. Her grip was strong, but her arms were shaking. She was exhausted and hurt and he hated himself for having considered shooting her.

“Lou Ellen?” she asked as he pulled her out of the depression. Llewelyn smiled.

“Close enough. A lot more letters in it than you’d think.”

“Oh.” Lisa steadied herself on his arm and looked down at her bare feet, something between a glare and a bemused smile on her face. “L’welin. Welsh, right?”

He blinked and felt a smile curling his lips. She said his name with the Old World flair he had only ever heard from his grandfather. “Yeah. My mother’s family’s from Cardiff. Never been, though.”

“You should sometime.” She took a step or two, then her eyes rolled back and Llewelyn had to dart forward to catch her as she passed out. He considered her for a second, wondering if he could carry her dead weight the ten miles or more he still needed to walk to get back to his truck. His eyes landed on the satchel where it still sat in the shade of the tree and he sighed. It was either her or the money. He couldn’t carry both.

He settled her in the shade of the tree, estimating where the shadow would fall as the sun sank lower, put his hat on her head, and set about looking for branches to lash together for a litter.

***

She woke up again when the first street lights shone on her face as he drove into town. “Agua,” she rasped and Llewelyn reached over with a bottle of water in his hand. He had stopped at a gas station before she woke up. Lisa took it and yanked it open, struggling not to choke on it as she drank it down.

“Easy,” he murmured to her. “Take it slow.”

“Where are we?” Lisa asked as she struggled to catch her breath again.

Llewelyn glanced in the rearview mirror and signaled before turning onto the main road which would bring him to the hospital. “Where do you think we are?”

“You’ve got a Texas plate,” she observed quietly. “I would assume we’re somewhere in Texas. I haven’t seen any location signs since we were still in Mexico, so I really have no idea beyond that.”

“Sanderson,” he told her. “If I drop you at the ER, will you be okay from there?”

The look she turned on him made his stomach tighten and Llewelyn glanced over her face before returning his eyes to the road. “You can’t take me to the hospital, Llewelyn,” she whispered in a panicked voice. “They’ll find me.”

“Where do you suggest I take you, then?”

She looked out the windshield, her hands clasped in her lap around the water bottle. “Is there a bus station?”

“You got any money?”

“You’ve got two million in that case.”

Moss raised an eyebrow and tried not to smile. “And why do you think I should give any of it to you?”

She turned back to face him squarely and Moss glanced at her. Her face was intense, her eyes never blinking and he was surprised to note how green her eyes were. He had thought them blue earlier. “You give me five hundred of that two million and you’ll never see me again. That’s why.”

He could have shot her. He could have left her there to die. He could still turn onto Hospital Drive and leave her in the ER. He could reach down into the footwell of the car, pull out a stack of the cash and hand it to her--twenty times what she was asking and no more questions asked--and drop her at the bus station.

He turned toward the trailer park.

Llewelyn climbed out of the truck and glanced to make sure none of his neighbors were moving around, then lifted the lattice that covered the crawlspace of the trailer and squirmed underneath. He pulled back some insulation and stuffed the automatic gun and ammo deep inside, pulled the insulation back. When he scooted out from under the trailer again, he saw Lisa staring at him from the driver’s side of the truck. “What are you doing?” she asked him in a helpless voice.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’?” He stood up and put the lattice back in place. “Are you coming in?”

“I dunno,” she whispered as he collected the valise from the footwell of the car. “Are you feeling particularly suicidal?” Llewelyn looked at her in surprise and she tucked her legs up under herself as she sat in the driver’s side seat. “Just give me some money, Llewelyn. I can get clear and then I won’t be your problem anymore.”

He shouldered his hunting rifle and closed the door. “You want money, you’re coming in first.” She didn’t move and Llewelyn looked to see the horror and fear in her face. “Get a shower,” he clarified. “Get something to eat.” He gave her a weak, self-deprecating smile. “Meet my wife.”

“What are you going to tell her?”

“To keep her mouth shut and not ask so many questions, probably. Not that she’ll listen.”

Lisa smiled briefly and said, “I think I like her already.”

“I really must be suicidal,” he muttered to himself as he climbed the steps. “Carla Jean,” he said as he came inside the trailer. His wife looked up from her folded position on the couch where she had been watching television. “This is Lisa Bitters. Lisa, my wife, Carla Jean.” The two women stared at each other for a moment and then Lisa tried a weak smile and a wave.

“What’s this, Llewelyn,” Carla Jean asked in a wary voice. “You bringin’ women home now?”

“Looks like.” He put his hat on the peg beside the door and edged his way down the narrow hallway to the bedroom.

“What’s in the satchel?” she called after him.

“Buncha money,” he shot back.

“That’ll be the day,” Carla Jean muttered. Lisa covered her mouth with one hand to hide her smile and Carla Jean shot her a glare. “What are you laughing at?” she hissed. “Why are you even here?”

“I’m here because your husband is a good man,” she answered softly, to which Carla Jean widened her eyes. “He could have left me where he found that case and I’d be dead now.”

“Where’d you get the pistol?”

Llewelyn replied, “At the gettin’ place.”

“You buy that pistol?”

He walked back through the living room, headed for the kitchen. “Found it.”

"Like you found a girl and a big bag of money?”

“Why do you ask so many questions, Carla Jean?” He dropped down next to her on the couch with a beer in his hand. To Lisa, he said, “Bathroom’s there. There’s food if you’re hungry.” He opened the beer and took a drink before asking Carla Jean, “What makes you think you should know all this?”

When they weren’t focused on her anymore, Lisa pushed her way nervously into the bathroom and paused to listen to them.

“Fine, then.” Carla Jean shifted her hips so her shoulder pressed comfortably against him. “I won’t ask anymore. I won’t even ask where you been all day.”

“I got work,” he said softly.

“Yeah.”

Llewelyn glanced at her and smirked. “You keep runnin’ your mouth, I’ll take you in the back and screw you.”

“Big talk,” Carla Jean smirked back.

Lisa smiled.

***

Carla Jean didn’t ask any more questions. She just folded Lisa onto the couch with pillows and sheets, fed her Cheerios and beer and half a banana. When Llewelyn had gone to settle for bed, she came back and sat on the edge of the couch beside Lisa’s legs. “Tell me,” she said softly.

“He saved my life,” Lisa whispered, “but he’s risking his own. And yours. He’s a good man, Carla Jean, but good men tend to die easy where I’m from.”

“What’s really in the satchel?”

“He told you. Money. A lot of it. Enough to make any man stupid.”

“Llewelyn ain’t stupid.”

“I’ve seen that.” Lisa reached up and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Even smart men do stupid things.”

Carla Jean put her hand on Lisa’s leg and Lisa flinched. “Someone’s gonna come for that money, huh?”

“Oh, yes. Probably already looking.”

“What about you?”

Lisa looked at her with a sad smile. “Yeah. They’ll probably come looking for me, too.”

“You were part of the deal?”

“I was part of the deal.”

Lisa was surprised by the look of compassion on Carla Jean’s face when the other woman reached down, gathered her against her chest and kissed her cheek. “Oh, honey,” she whispered. “We’ve got ya. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you now.”

Carefully, hesitantly, Lisa put her arms around Carla Jean and hugged her back. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You sleep good,” Carla Jean whispered in her ear with one more little squeeze. “We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.” Lisa watched as she stood and slipped off down the hall.

Lisa lay in the darkness of the trailer, listening to the couple who lived there settling in for bed, talking quietly and finally punctuated by the click of a light. She wondered if she should steal some of the cash and run if it would be better for everyone if she was gone in the morning. But the sheets were cool and the worn couch drew her into a comfortable embrace. The soft humming of the fan dulled her senses, even as she grew accustomed to the highs and lows of Llewelyn and Carla Jean’s voices.

She slept.

She woke when Llewelyn tripped against the couch with a soft grunt. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going?” she asked him.

“Where do you think I’m going?”

“How suicidal are you feeling?”

Llewelyn grunted again and Lisa sat up on the couch as he filled a gallon milk jug with water from the tap. The light in the hallway flicked on and Carla Jean joined them. “Llewelyn?”

“Go back to bed,” he said and it was unclear who he was speaking to.

Lisa stood up and stepped closer to him as Carla Jean followed. “Where are you going?” she asked him again.

“Reckon I’m fixin’ to do something pretty stupid,” he replied as he put his hat on and shrugged into his coat.

Lisa put her hand on his arm, making him jump. “Llewelyn, he’s already dead. Don’t go.”

Llewelyn looked away from her to his wife and said, “If I don’t come back, tell Mother I love her.”

Carla Jean’s face opened in a study of confusion and worry. “Your mother’s dead, Llewelyn.”

“Huh.” He looked down toward his feet and pushed the door open. “Guess I’ll tell her myself.”

He pushed out into the night and Lisa hissed through her teeth, following him in her borrowed shorts and t-shirt. “Dammit, Llewelyn, don’t be a fool. He’s already dead. They’re all dead. It’ll be long past when they were supposed to be back to their respective sides and they’ll have been found by now.” He stopped with his hand on the driver’s side door, then looked at her. “It’s over there,” she whispered. “Don’t go.”

“If I don’t come back,” he whispered back, “take care of Carla Jean. Take her to her mother’s. She’ll be safe there. So will you. Nobody’ll ever mess with her mama.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Llewelyn smiled, a half-embarrassed look in his eyes. “Why do you think?”

He drove away and Lisa sat on the steps of the trailer, her head in her hands. Carla Jean came down the steps to sit beside her, her arm around her. “What’s goin’ on, Lisa?” she whispered nervously. “Where’s he going?”

“Hopefully to water some flowers and come right back home again.” Lisa leaned up and pulled Carla Jean’s head to her shoulder, kissed the top of her head affectionately. “Go pack your things, just in case he’s not.”

***

An hour later, a car drove up, then away again and Carla Jean looked at Lisa in alarm as the lattice was pulled away from the trailer again. “Llewelyn,” she called nervously from the porch and Lisa winced when she saw the hamburger that was the man’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

He tucked the automatic under one arm and stuffed the clip of ammo into the back of his jeans. “Get inside,” he said urgently. He shooed them both inside the trailer and went to the bathroom, pulled down the disinfectant and started struggling to remove his shirt.

“Here,” Lisa sighed softly and caught the sleeve so he could twist out of it. “Give me the gauze.” Llewelyn looked at her for a second, glanced at Carla Jean where she stood against the door frame with her fingers twisting nervously, then handed Lisa the supplies.

“It’s midnight now,” Llewelyn said almost to himself. “Municipal court doesn’t open until eight. At least eight before someone shows up there with the inspection plate off my truck.” He grunted and hissed through his teeth as Lisa carefully removed some of the buckshot from his shoulder with tweezers, then pressed the gauze over it. “Nine, nine-thirty before they turn up here.”

“Who’s comin’ here?” Carla Jean asked with a hopeless tone in her voice.

“No one you want to meet,” Lisa replied softly. She whispered to Llewelyn, “Sorry,” and used the tweezers again to pull free a deeper fragment while he groaned in pain.

“What are we gonna do?” Carla Jean whimpered.

“Goin’ to Odessa,” hissed Llewelyn with his head down.

“Why would we go to Odessa?”

“We aren’t. You are. Both of you. Gonna go stay with your mother.”

“What am I gonna tell her?”

Llewelyn winced as he stood up and examined Lisa’s work over his shoulder before shrugging into a clean shirt. “Open the door and yell, ‘Mama, I’m home,’ I suspect.”

“You can’t make me go.” He looked up at Lisa and she stared at him levelly. She wiped her hands of his blood and set the tweezers on the edge of the sink. “You don’t know half of what’s going on here, Llewelyn. You send me to Odessa with her, you just put her in more danger. They won’t just be tracking the money.”

“Who are they?” Carla Jean whispered. “Is this for good?”

“How long would you keep looking for two million dollars?” snapped Llewelyn. He was tired and hurting and scared and it showed on his face for a moment before he managed to put himself back together.

Carla Jean looked at him and Lisa bit her lip at the fear in the other woman’s eyes. “Well, don’ fall all over yourself apologizin’,” she whispered as she turned away.

“Things happen, baby,” he sighed, then looked at Lisa. “Can’t take ‘em back.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 6/20/2018 for timeline issues.

Lisa sat on the bench in the bus station while Llewelyn settled Carla Jean in her seat. She glanced at her wrist at the watch Llewelyn had given her in the absence of her own: it was a little after eight. She could see them both talking through the big windows, watched Llewelyn smiling and reassuring his even though his words were obviously not quite enough to dispel her fears. And well they shouldn’t. She waved when Carla Jean peeked out at her and the other woman waved back with a nervous smile. When Llewelyn came down from the bus, Lisa stood up to join him. “Wish you were going with her,” he informed her in a low voice. “She’d be safer with you.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“You’re stronger than you look.”

“They’ll be after me,” she sighed softly as they walked back to the taxi stand. “I’m as much a target for them as that case.” When they climbed into the nearest taxi and Llewelyn had given him directions, she added quietly, “Speaking of which, it’s too damn recognizable. You should redistribute. Buy a new bag, maybe three.”

Llewelyn looked at her with a slow smile. “And give one to you?”

“I’m not trying to rob you, you moron. I’m trying to tell you what I know.” She turned to glare at him and he blinked, jerked back a little at the intensity of her green eyes. “Life for a life. I owe you.” She sat back as the taxi jerked and started to drive. “For someone so damn smart, you really can’t read people, can you?”

Llewelyn’s face closed down and she smiled. Too close to home.

***

The cab dropped them at the office of a roadside motel in Del Rio, then rolled around to park and wait. When they walked into the office, the desk clerk gave them both a long once-over and her eyes darted immediately to Llewelyn’s wedding ring and then Lisa’s bare hands. Her mouth puckered like she was sucking on something horrible, but she turned the fee chart over when Llewelyn asked for it. Lisa did her best to not roll her eyes at the woman. “Two singles,” Llewelyn said finally and pushed the chart back with the requested amount. The clerk looked surprised but handed him a key on a round, flat tag and they trooped back outside.

“A double would have been cheaper,” observed Lisa.

“I ain’t sharin’ a bed with anyone but my wife,” he snapped back.

Lisa followed him in silence, watched him open the motel room door and elbow his way inside. He took off his hat and put his duffle on one of the beds, then walked through the room and studied every inch of it. She watched him remove the grill over the air conditioning vent and peer down to the end. He dropped down from the chair and went to the closet and removed the hanger bar, walked to the blinds and cut a length of the cord with his knife. “What are you doing?” she finally asked when he returned to the bed with the cord.

Llewelyn glanced at her without expression, then looped the cord around the handle of the satchel and climbed back up on the chair. He pushed the case inside the vent, then slid it all the way to the back with the hanger bar. He bumped around a little with a grunt, then tucked the cord inside and returned the grill to the wall. “We need some stuff,” he informed her. “Sporting goods and hardware.”

“And a shower.”

“What?” He blinked at her and Lisa gave him a half-smile.

“A shower,” she repeated. I know I need one for certain and you look like you could do with one, too. Especially if we’re going to be presentable while shopping. I should really redress your shoulder, too.” She walked to the bathroom while squirming her way out of Carla Jean’s spare sneakers and leaned inside. “Shower’s big enough for two if you’re in a hurry.”

Llewelyn glared at her sourly. “Go ahead. I need to close my eyes for a second anyway.” She shrugged while he dropped to the bed and kicked his boots off.

“Suit yourself.”

He dropped into restless sleep almost immediately, but strange dreams plagued the short span his eyes were closed. “Shower’s free,” Lisa said and Llewelyn jerked awake, his brain still buzzing hotly with phantom sounds and sensations.

“You decent?”

She chuckled, a warm sound that he liked better than he wanted to. “I’m covered if that’s what you’re asking. No, I’m not dressed.”

Llewelyn sighed and rolled over to press his face into the pillow. “Tell me when you are and I’ll get a shower.”

“This is really an issue for you?” she asked in amusement. He could hear the button of her jeans jingling and the sound of denim on skin. “It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t my wife.”

“Then it should mean less than nothing to you to see it.” Cotton snapped and settled, then she sighed, “Fine. I’m dressed.”

“You grew up in one of those hippie communes, weren’t you?” Llewelyn rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed to glare at her. Lisa grinned at him as she finished doing up the buttons on the shirt and tucked it into her jeans.

“How young do you think I am?” she asked him, her eyes shining.

He shrugged. As a successfully married man, he knew better than to answer a question like that but he couldn’t help assessing her since she’d brought it up. She was fit and lean, maybe a touch on the skinny side still from her time with the cartel. When he had first seen her curled up in the hollow of that tree, he had guessed her not much more than fifteen or sixteen; he knew better now. Having seen her clean and dressed now, he thought she was probably around twenty-five, a shade younger than Carla Jean.

Lisa met his eyes and smirked. “Older.”

Llewelyn raised an eyebrow. “You read minds, too?”

“Only when it’s written all over your face.”

He tilted his head to study her a little more. There were a few streaks of lighter hair that he thought were blonde but if he squinted, they might have been grey. Still, she couldn’t be over thirty.

“Older,” she chuckled. “You really are sweet to think it, though.”

“Well, if you’re just going to keep saying that, why don’t you tell me?” he huffed at her.

Lisa grinned and leaned closer to whisper, “Do you really want to know?”

Llewelyn briefly remembered the moment when he had considered shooting her to put her out of her misery. She certainly was not that miserable waif now. He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Why would I want to know that?” Her hair smelled like the motel’s shampoo, fruit and soap and a confusion of flowers.

“I’m legal,” she grinned teasingly and he glared at her.

“I’m married.”

“As you keep saying.” Lisa leaned back and gave him room again, still smirking. “Who exactly are you reminding?” Before he could collect his thoughts to answer, she turned away and started repacking her duffle. “Were you going to get a shower?”

“Check on the taxi,” Llewelyn grunted quietly as he passed her on his way to the bathroom.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said in a lazily exaggerated Southern drawl.

Llewelyn turned sharply and snapped, “Don’t. Not funny,” and went into the bathroom and shut the door.

The hot water felt better than he had thought it would and he stood soaking in it for a few minutes before Lisa called in through the door, “What all do we need?”

He scrubbed his nails through his hair to lather the shampoo and called back, “I need socks, a fresh first aid kit, hacksaw, tape. You need more luggage and a gun and I need a better one.” A long silence answered him and he wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if he’d ever know what she was thinking. He could a lot of times with Carla Jean, but her thoughts were simpler and more familiar after two years of marriage. He rinsed out his hair and heard her say something but the water in his ears drowned it out. “What?”

“Better than an automatic .45?” she asked, but he could tell that wasn’t what she had said the first time.

“The .45’s got stopping power but you need to be able to see what you’re shooting. Shotgun’s less exact.” He soaped himself and rinsed, then reached out for a towel.

"Give it to me, then.” Her voice was immediately beside the shower and he jerked back, stumbled into the shower curtain, lunged for the towels and his feet slipped out from under him. He went down with a grunt into the shower, the curtain following him in a heap. “Are you okay?” Lisa said and he could hear the smothered giggle in her voice.

"Better before I met you,” he grumbled. “Would you please take your hippie ass out until I can get some clothes on?”

“You have a beautiful body,” she said in a lofty voice. “Nothing at all to be ashamed of.” She threw a towel at him. When he was dressed again, she said, “So about the pistol.”

He looked at her skeptically and she glared. “I can handle a .45, Llewelyn.”

“Sorry.” He walked over to the bed and pulled the pistol from under the mattress, ejected the clip to check it. “We’ll need bullets for this, too.” He returned the clip and handed it to her. He watched her take the heavy pistol in her small hands, work the action, check the ammo herself. She looked like she had done it a thousand times and probably had, but he still couldn’t wrap his brain around the woman who had fainted in his arms in the desert heat being this comfortable with any firearm.

“Needs cleaning,” she muttered as she uncocked it and tucked it under her own mattress. “Flashy outside, pitted and filthy inside.”

“That’s probably my fault,” Llewelyn said with a shrug. “I was kind of carryin’ it when I fell in the river.”

“And you didn’t clean it after?” Her voice held horror and distaste.

“It weren’t real high on my list of priorities,” he shot back defensively. “I was more worried about gettin’ my wife and the girl I found passed out under a scrub tree safely out of town before the guys shootin’ at me caught up.”

“I wasn’t passed out. If I’d been passed out, you’d have thought me dead and left me there. I’ll have to clean it when we get back for the night,” Lisa huffed. “And I’m not a girl, Llewelyn,” she added when he turned for the door. “I’m 34. No one but a fool would mistake me for a child.”

“Never said you were a child,” he grunted and paused to study her face. “34, huh?” he murmured and was surprised to see her blush. “Wouldn’a guessed you were older than me.”

Llewelyn directed the taxi to take them to the sporting goods store. He bought a shotgun and shells, more ammo for the .45. On foot, he went to a feed store and bought socks and a first aid kit and two rolls of duct tape. He watched in amusement when Lisa tried on a hat that neither fit nor suited her. “Thing makes you look about five,” he commented when she turned back to grin foolishly at him.

“Little girl wearing her daddy’s hat,” she agreed and took it off.

“Hungry?” he asked her when he glanced at the clock. It was a little past one and they had skipped breakfast. Lisa nodded and he inclined his head toward the door. They walked down the sidewalk carrying their bundles and Llewelyn found himself reflecting on his life. “Were you ever a little girl?” he murmured.

“Course I was,” Lisa replied. “Roly-poly and always sticky with something.”

“Hard to picture.”

“My mother used to brush my hair and curse. The only time I ever heard her curse was when she was brushing those bushy knots out of my hair and I was crying.” She reached up and ran her fingers through her loose waves. “She’d never believe I don’t need a stylist team to keep from turning into a tumbleweed of hair.” Llewelyn smiled.

“You’re not from Texas,” he observed quietly and held open the door to the little diner while she went inside.

“No,” she murmured back but didn’t elaborate. The waitress seated them and they both ordered coffee and water. Once they had looked over the menu, she ordered a grilled cheese with bacon and home fries. He ordered a hamburger with more of the same.

“No salad?” he asked.

“Do I look like a rabbit to you?”

Llewelyn felt the grin on his face and smoothed it down with one hand into a more conventional smile. “No, ma’am.” He took a sip of coffee and made a face and added a packet of sugar and two creams.

Someone needs to teach someone about how to make coffee,” he muttered. Lisa sipped her own and her expression mirrored his as she floundered for the cream and sugar.

“I’ve had worse,” she said and coughed into her hand before adding two sugars and half a cream. “Not by much, though. Hope the food is better.”

It was. They ate in silence, passing the ketchup and salt and pepper. When the waitress came back to check on them, Lisa asked for a packet of mayo. The waitress stared at her in confusion, then walked back to look. “Mayonnaise on grilled cheese?” Llewelyn asked, trying to mask his own horror.

“No, it’s for the fries.”

“That ain’t much better.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, pretty boy.”

Llewelyn squirmed and looked away from her. “I wish you’d quit that.”

Lisa looked up in surprise, then accepted three packets of mayonnaise from the waitress with thanks. “Quit what?”

He didn’t answer right away and sat watching her opening the packets and squeezing the dressing out into a little gelatinous heap on her plate. “Talkin’ ‘bout my looks. Makes me nervous.”

She stuck a fry into her mayo and chewed for a few seconds before observing softly, “I know Carla Jean likes your looks. Does she not comment on them?”

“Carla Jean’s my wife.” Llewelyn took another bite of his burger, trying not to look at her. “I’d hope she likes ‘em. She married ‘em.”

Lisa sighed and chewed on another fry. “You ever been to a museum?”

“Sure. School trip. Didn’ much like it.” He tilted his head to study her. “Everything interesting was behind glass and they didn’ like us touching anything.”

“How old were you?”

He shrugged. “Eight? Nine?”

“So, not as an adult.”

He shook his head and took another bite.

Lisa shifted in her seat and drew a small circle on her plate with the tip of a fry. “Watched the sun come up, I’ll bet.”

“Sure. Plenty of times.”

“Ever just stop and watch it?”

“A few.” He wondered where she was going with this or if it was just a random change of conversation. “Why?”

“There’s a lot in this world that’s beautiful to look at,” Lisa observed softly. “Not all of it can understand a viewer’s appreciation of itself, though.” Her eyes flicked to his face and he slowly raised his eyebrows.

“You comparin’ me to a museum?”

“Or a sunrise, if you’re taking the comparison. You can’t tell a sunrise it’s beautiful and have it receive the compliment. You can’t tell a painting how much you enjoy its company.”

Llewelyn sighed and leaned to rest his chin in his hand, elbow on the table. “More of your hippie talk?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Would you believe I was a pastor’s daughter?”

“No, ma’am, I wouldn’t.”

“Northeast Conference, General Baptist Conference,” Lisa said and shrugged. “My daddy was a preacher-man.” She chewed on her fries and shrugged again. “Spend all your life told all the things you can’t do, you push back pretty hard when you find out you can do most of ‘em. Just not in a way that makes you real popular.”

“Like not carin’ if a married man sees you naked?”

“Something like that. When it comes right down to it, I don’t much care if anyone sees me naked. It’s just skin.” She finished the last of her fries and put cash down for their bill. “If it really bothers you, I’ll stop. Commenting, I mean.”

Llewelyn studied the last of the mayo on her plate and reached out with one of his fries and scooped some up before putting it in his mouth. “Do what you want,” he murmured and stood up to put on his hat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised 6/20/18 for timeline issues.

They returned to the room and Llewelyn started in on the shotgun immediately: first the barrel and then the stock came off with the hacksaw and he spent some time filing the barrel smooth again while Lisa pulled down the satchel and began parceling the stacks of cash into three smaller duffle bags they had bought. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Hurts,” he replied, his attention still on the shotgun.

“Do you want me to check it?” She riffled each stack of cash as she counted them out.

“No.” He blew metal shavings out of the barrel and checked it before rounding off another edge. When she didn’t say anything, he looked up and she was watching him with an irritated expression. “It’s fine,” he grunted and set aside the shotgun, turning for the bathroom.

Lisa sighed, then paused with her thumb brushing back the hundreds of a stack. There were ones in the middle. “Llewelyn,” she called warily as she pulled the sleeve off and spread the bills wide to show the little compartment that had been cut inside. He came out of the bathroom and Lisa held up the little black transmitter with its flashing red light. “I was afraid of that. They’ll have a receiver to pick up the signal. Maybe more than one.”

“Is this the only one?” he asked, overturning the case and shaking out the remaining stacks of bills onto the bed. Together, they checked the rest of them for more hidden electronics and found nothing. Llewelyn held the transmitter in his palm and glared at it for a second, then set it on the credenza and pulled back to smash it with the butt of his rifle.

“Wait.” Lisa held up a hand and picked it up again. Llewelyn glared at her this time and she lifted her chin in defiance. “Better to leave it somewhere for them to chase around. Lay a false trail.”

“Like where?”

She thought about it, then leaned back on the credenza, letting it bear some of her weight. “Is there anyone else staying here right now?”

“There’s a truck at the end.” Lisa flicked her eyes to his face and saw Llewelyn make the connection. The slight downturn of his lips made clear he didn’t like it. “You think it’ll work?”

“It can’t hurt.”

“Us.”

Lisa snorted. “You wanna survive this little adventure to spend some of that money?” She reached for the ice bucket and lofted it at him. “Prioritize.” She passed him, picked up the key to the room and walked out into the twilit parking lot. Warily, Llewelyn leaned out the door to watch her go. She followed the line of doors all the way to the end where the battered Ranger was parked and he raised his eyebrows when she knocked on that door. It opened and she smiled, her body language shifting from the matter-of-fact, no-nonsense woman he had met to something much softer and flirtier. In a blink, she seemed to have gained five pounds, largely in her chest and hips and lost as many IQ points. He could hear her talking and the man inside responding. After a few exchanges, the man left the room and walked with her to the ice machine, his lips curled in a smile and his gaze firmly latched on Lisa’s butt. As she collected ice from the machine and coaxed the man into walking her back to her room, Llewelyn pulled back inside and stood against the wall beside the door. Outside, he heard her say, “Thank you. I know it seems silly, but it’s hard being out here alone. You never know who might be sneaking around and I don’t want to be one of those missing girls you see on the news, y’know?”

“You headin’ somewhere in particular?” the man drawled in a loose voice that sounded like he had started on his beers long before Lisa had knocked on his door.

“El Paso,” she said in that shy, flirty voice. “Gonna see some friends from school.” They stood in quiet for a moment and Lisa added softly, “Look, I’m real grateful, mister, and I’d… probably any other time I’d ask you in, but I’m real tired and it’s been a long day. You be around tomorrow?”

“Sorry,” he said and Llewelyn smirked at the genuine regret in the man’s voice. The girl was good. “I’ve got a long way to go tomorrow myself.”

“Where ya headed?”

“Virginia, eventually. Richmond’s home.”

“Well, here’s to the night we could have had.” Llewelyn tilted his head just enough so he could see out the window and caught Lisa leaning in and up to kiss the man, the hand not holding the ice bucket resting lightly on his flannel shirt. Just over the breast pocket. The man walked away again, looking a little more unsteady on his feet than he had a moment ago and Lisa slipped back inside their room. “Magic. The case is on its way to Virginia now.”

Llewelyn studied her with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re good at this. Why did they have you tied up with the goods again?”

Lisa put the bucket of ice on the credenza, took out one of the cubes and popped it into her mouth. “Why do you think they had me tied up with the goods?” she murmured around it, flipping his question back on him. When he didn’t answer, she smiled and turned back to the cash on the bed. She finished packing them into their respective bags and zipped them closed.

“You said they’d be coming for you as much as for the money,” Llewelyn murmured and Lisa stopped in the middle of packing the fourth bag. His voice was closer than it had been and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Who exactly are you, Lisa Bitters?”

Lisa regarded him in silence, then put her hand in the middle of his chest and gently pushed him away. “You shouldn’t ask what you don’t want to know.” They stared at each other and she looked away first with a small smile. “Well, if they’ve got trackers on us, we should probably keep moving and put as much distance between us and Mr. Jefferson back there.”

“Let me finish this,” Llewelyn said, nodding to the shotgun. “Wish we had a car. It’s gettin’ harder and harder to get a taxi to go long distance.”

“We could hitchhike,” she offered. When he looked doubtful she wagged a finger. “I’ve got an idea. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Where are you going?” he asked quickly and stood when she reached for the door.

“Not far,” Lisa smiled at him. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

“How do I know you’re not leading me into a trap?” he blurted, his expression pained. “How do I know you’re not as wired up as that damn case?”

“What do you think? Do you really think I would do that?”

“I don’t know you.” Llewelyn walked over to the door and leaned on the frame, his hand on his hip. “Who are you?”

Lisa sighed up at him. “Do you really want to do this here? Now?” Llewelyn glared at her and she threw her hands up, letting them fall to her sides, then pulled the door shut and locked it again. “Fine. My name is Alissa Marie Brady. If you look that name up, you’ll find a string of priors for varying criminal offenses including con games, breaking and entering, theft, and assault. There’s a few murders in there, but they never caught me so it would stick.” Llewelyn stared and she shrugged. “Carla Jean asked me if I was part of the deal and I told her I was. I didn’t lie to her. I was working with the buyers and they doubled back on the deal. When I tried to get clear, they knocked me out, tied me up and offered me with the drugs.”

“When I found you…”

“I really was that scared,” she whispered. “I’ve had worse experiences with Americans than Mexicans, machismo aside. At that point, I hadn’t eaten in three days and the last water I’d had was sometime the previous night. If you had left me there, I would be dead now.”

“Why would you be a target?” he asked and she shrugged.

“The Mexicans talked me up as a whore, but a satisfying one. Little sells better than captive sex.”

Llewelyn frowned. “These guys can get sex anywhere. No offense, but that doesn’t pan out.”

Lisa smiled and shrugged again. “It’s the principle of the thing. The money is theirs. I’m theirs. You’ve got both of those things and they want them back.” She gently pushed one hand against his chest until he backed away from her a few steps. “I’m nothing more than property to them, Llewelyn. If someone on this side figures out who I am, it could get worse: then I’m skilled property.” They watched each other in silence, then Lisa said quietly, “I have an idea. I’m going out to get something and I’ll be right back. I promise you I’m not going to leave without you and I’m not going to betray you. I really am on your side, you know.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Pick up something to eat ‘fore you come back, would you?”

She smiled. “I will.”

***

When Lisa returned, she found Llewelyn dozing on the bed, a finished sawed-off shotgun with a duct tape-wrapped pistol grip lying near his hand and his hat pulled down over his eyes. She put down the battered guitar case and leaned it against the TV stand, then walked over and said his name carefully, loudly enough so he wouldn’t miss it and clearly enough that he hopefully wouldn’t shoot her. His hand moved to the grip, but his hat came back and he looked at her before he picked it up. “McDonald's,” she said, holding up the bag. “Not much, but it’ll do.”

“Now I know you’re trying to kill me,” he grumbled but held out his hands for the food as he sat up. As he unwrapped a burger and accepted one of the cups of soda, he glanced at the guitar case. “What’d you get?”

“Something to make us more stereotypical hitchhikers,” she smiled. Lisa walked to the case and opened it, pulled out a guitar that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of cross-country trips. She looped the strap over her head and settled it, then tuned it quickly and strummed the strings once. “It’s got decent tune, actually. Fender, good body.”

“You play?” he asked in surprise and she nodded.

“I thought a guitar case would at least make hitchhikers with lots of duffle bags look more like wandering artists than fugitives. And it looks weird to buy the case without the guitar. And the guitar was just sitting there…” She grinned like a child with a new toy and Llewelyn shook his head, amused in spite of himself. They sat on opposite ends of his bed and ate their meal in relative silence. “So, where are we headed?”

“I planned to cross the border and call Carla Jean from there,” he admitted. “Figured it’d be easier to vanish in Mexico than it is around here.”

“You might be surprised,” Lisa murmured into her fries. “I was on the Mexican end of this deal. I’m not sure I’m going to be better off across the border. At the very least, more cartels know who I am than American drug dealers.”

Llewelyn watched her for a moment, then said, “You don’ have to come.”

“You’ll live longer if I do.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Lisa chuckled quietly. “I have no doubt you could under other circumstances. But I have every intention of getting you back safely to Carla Jean. I made her a promise.”

Llewelyn sat up straighter and growled, “So you’re protecting me now?” He stabbed a finger toward her face. “I don’t need a babysitter, lady.”

“No, you don’t,” she snapped at him. “You need a keeper.” They glared at each other and Llewelyn looked away first. “You need someone to back you up,” Lisa whispered more gently. “Someone who knows what you’re up against. I owe you my life and I intend to pay that debt.” They subsided into silence and finished eating before she murmured, “Maybe we should take a taxi to the next town at least, then start hitchhiking from there.”

“If you’re not headed for the border,” Llewelyn whispered, “where would you go?”

“California,” she answered as she rolled her burger wrapper into a ball and tossed it toward the garbage can. It landed neatly. “Then north. Seattle. Maybe cross the northern border. Canada’s better for hiding than Mexico when you’re carrying Mexican drug money.”

“Hitchhike the whole way?”

She shook her head. “I would have stolen a car by now. Stop every couple thousand miles at a long-term parking garage to switch out plates. Change cars if I think someone’s made my make and model.”

Llewelyn raised his eyebrows, then nodded. “When would you call for Carla Jean?”

Lisa sighed and looked at him squarely. “If I was alone, I wouldn’t. But I’m not alone.” She leaned forward and leaned her chin in her hands, her elbows on her knees. “I think the best thing to do would probably be to wire her money before we cross, then give her a location in Canada to fly into. I would much rather do that once we’re sure we’ve shaken whoever’s tracking us.”

“Her mother’s gonna hate Canada.”

Lisa snorted. “Her mother’s not invited, Llewelyn. It’s going to be hard enough keeping Carla Jean safe. I make no promises for her mother.” She grinned at the smothered smile on his face. “I see that’s not exactly a problem for you.”

“I don’ wish the woman no harm,” he said quickly. “I just wish her a long life as far from me as she can get.”

“You’re not real popular with her, I take it.”

“Not a bit.”

“Well,” Lisa sighed and looked at the watch on her wrist. “It’s almost eight. If we get a car to take us as far as Sonora, we can take US 10 over and then go North to get to Odessa, pick her up directly. We should know before then if we’ve shaken pursuit.”

“An’ if we haven’t?”

Lisa twitched her lips in a small smile. “Then we’ll either deal with it or it’ll deal with us.”

They finished packing their things into the duffle bags, each shouldering two while Llewelyn took his own rucksack and Lisa carried her new guitar. When they checked out, the desk clerk puckered her lips even more sourly than she had when they had checked in and Lisa smirked at her.

“No refunds for not stayin’ the night,” she snapped at Llewelyn. “We don’ charge by the hour here.”

“Neither do I,” Lisa murmured slyly with her chin on his shoulder and her eyes half-closed. Llewelyn shot her a look while the clerk sputtered indignantly. She laced her fingers through his and pulled him back out into the parking lot with a little finger wave at the clerk.

“You’re incorrigible,” he observed as they walked to the waiting taxi. He held the door for her and then climbed in after her. “Are you always like this?”

“Usually,” she smiled. “Can you take us to Sonora?” she asked the driver.

“Won’ be cheap,” he replied and Lisa passed him two hundreds. “Sure. I can get you most anywhere for that.”

“Wake me when we’re in Sonora,” Lisa said and snuggled her way into Llewelyn‘s lap while he blushed and looped one arm around her with a sigh.


	4. Chapter 4

Eight miles east of Del Rio, Chigurh sat behind the wheel of a small Ford Ranger. He sat and studied the Zippo-sized piece of electronics in his palm as it flashed its little light at him in time to the blips from the receiver in the passenger seat. He rolled it over in his hand. It had not brought him to his quarry. It had brought him to another death but not to the one he had planned. He had lost his ability to track the location of the case. While he had Llewelyn Moss’s name and that of his wife, Carla Jean and the location of the wife’s grandmother in Odessa, he did not have a face to match with the name. It did not disturb him greatly to kill a man whose face he did not know, but it did disturb him to acquire that man’s death without having at least tried to track him. Applying pressure to his family so soon seemed a cheapening of the game.

And there was the matter of the woman. The Virginian had spoken of her, appreciatively if dismissively. He hadn’t seen Moss, only the woman who did not sound like Carla Jean. In spite of the Virginian’s dismissal, the addition of a new player concerned him. An unknown factor had entered his equation. A woman with the cunning to distract this man with her smile and her smokey eyes long enough to plant the tracker on him without his noticing. Chigurh had already observed a level of cunning in the way Moss had collected his family and removed himself from the situation. Now, he had to gauge how much of that cunning was Moss and how much was the unknown woman.

Chigurh rolled the receiver in his palm again. He stared at it. He started the truck, put it in gear, turned around, headed back to Del Rio.

***  
Eleven o’clock found them staggering into a motel, both foot-sore and foggy. The taxi had dropped them in Sonora and they had started walking for Ozona down US 10. It had taken almost an hour for them to attract the attention of an older man in a sedan who had slowed to a stop beside them and got out to help them load their bags into the trunk. Once they were in the car, Llewelyn had passed out almost immediately and Lisa had stayed awake, watching behind them for signs of pursuit. “You shouldn’ be doing that,” the driver had said and she blinked, looking up at him. “Not even with your young man with you.”

“Doing what?” she asked softly.

“Hitchhikin’.” He shook his head slowly. “Dangerous.”

Lisa had just smiled.

Since Llewelyn had been mostly asleep on his feet when they arrived, Lisa had made the decision to get a room with one double bed instead of two singles. He had glared when he realized but muttered less when she pointed out that a double room was almost three times as expensive here. They had stuffed all their luggage into the closet and mostly just collapsed into the bed, both too tired to think much or plan. As Lisa squirmed around to get settled and then dropped jeans and bra beside the bed, Llewelyn woke up enough to whisper, “What you did back there… with the guy and the transmitter?”

“Yeah?” she murmured softly.

“You won’t do that to me. Right?”

Her lips twitched in a smile and she leaned her head on her arm. “Llewelyn, I like you. I like Carla Jean. I think you deserve that money far more than anyone else who’s ever handled it, myself included. If I can help get you guys clear of this and safe, I’ll do everything I can.” She reached up and turned out the light.

“Good night, Lisa.”

“Good night, Jim-Bob.”

Llewelyn smiled to himself and half-curled on his side. He listened to the sounds of the motel: the busy road and the ticking of the air conditioner, water running when someone flushed a toilet. He hoped she was telling him the truth. It felt like truth, but she hadn’t been wrong when she said he had trouble reading people. He could read a situation like a blueprint, could see all the angles to get out of anything, get into anything. He could even predict general human behavior, but he could not recognize basic personality traits. He’d been lucky marrying Carla Jean: the girl was sweet and genuine and didn’t have a lying bone in her body. Well, unless he was screwing her anyway. He was not a great judge of character.

Lisa sighed softly and her breathing evened out into something not quite a snore. She was pretty; he had to admit that much to himself. Her little act with the Virginian had stirred him as much as it had the stranger, maybe more so because he recognized it as an act. He knew she was dangerous and smart, wily in ways his wife never could be. He had never been one for choosing a dangerous situation when there was a safer, more certain alternative, but it seemed like deciding to take that money and drag that woman out of the desert had flipped some risk-taking switches in his brain.

Llewelyn closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose. He wished she had gone for two beds, no matter how much more expensive it would have been. Having her there against his back was bringing up all the reasons why and he pressed his lips together in frustration. That flash of skin when she’d kicked up her feet to protect herself. The feeling of her falling into his arms when she fainted. How much better she looked in jeans and one of his cotton work shirts than the skimpy sundress, which had had its own charms but didn’t hug her ass the way the jeans did. The casual way she’d undressed under the sheets and dropped her clothes beside the bed. The fact that she had undressed and was now lying beside him without pants or a bra. The pouty smile she’d given the stranger, the kiss. He gritted his teeth and cussed under his breath, then rolled over onto his face and hugged the pillow. He loved his wife. He’d never hurt her.

He repeated those two things to himself mindlessly until he fell asleep.

***

“I need to redress your shoulder.” Lisa’s voice was close on the other side of the bathroom door.

Llewelyn growled, “Lookin’ at my shoulder don’t need you lookin’ at anything else.” She giggled and he sighed and put his forehead against the mirror for a second, bounced it once and pulled fresh shorts and jeans on before he opened the door.

Lisa was leaning on the credenza and when the door opened, her eyes went over him and she pursed her lips in an approving expression. Llewelyn glared at her. “Shoulder,” he reminded her irritably. “Stop lookin’ at me like I’m a side of beef.”

“Cake,” she said. He stared at her helplessly and she grinned. “The term is 'beefcake.' Which is entirely accurate.” She stood up and he backed away into the bathroom again. He started to shy away from her, but her hands touched his back and suddenly she was all business. She steered him to sit on the toilet with his back toward the brilliant vanity lights. Lisa sloshed antiseptic into a gauze pad and began to dab it over the wounds. It stung and he grunted against it. “Sorry,” she murmured and he thought she actually was. She paused near one gash and gently pressed it with her fingertips. “Does that hurt?”

“Course it hurts,” he hissed. “I got shot and then fell down a cliff face. Everything hurts.”

“No, I mean…” She gently pressed again and he bit his lip against making a sound. “It looks inflamed. More than the others. There might be something in there still.” She turned away and walked back to the other room before returning with the first aid kit. When he saw her pull out the tweezers, Llewelyn looked away and clenched his jaw. “Trust me,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you, I swear. Not more than I have to.”

“Got me over a barrel here,” he muttered back. “It’s not like I got a bunch of options.”

Lisa was quiet for a moment, then he felt her breath on his skin, the warmth of her hands and the cold precision of the tweezers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and he groaned against the pain. “Almost.” He could almost hear the metal touch lead, then the tweezers flexed against the edges of the wound and he bit his lip hard. “Almost,” Lisa repeated and this time her lips brushed his skin. “Got it.” The warmth of her hands left his skin and he felt her lean back and away from him. Something plinked into the sink and she touched his back again, lower. “You okay?”

“Doin’ pretty good for a man who’s letting a murderer stick sharp objects under his skin.”

She didn’t answer and Llewelyn looked over his shoulder at her and regretted his words. She looked like he had slapped her. No, that wasn’t it. He didn’t think Lisa was a stranger to being slapped. She looked like Carla Jean would have looked if he had ever raised a hand to her: betrayed and confused and hurt. “I’m just trying to help,” she said finally. She collected the first aid supplies and vanished from the bathroom.

Llewelyn opened his mouth to say something, to apologize, to remind her his shoulder was still undressed. Anything. In the end, he just sat there feeling like a heel. After a few minutes, he stood up and poked his head around the door frame. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That was harsh. I got no call to remind you of that, not when I don’ know the half of the story.”

Lisa wiped at her face and Llewelyn was surprised to see that there were real tears there. “You aren’t wrong,” she said and stood up from the bed and took the first aid kit back over to the credenza. “Turn around,” she ordered in a low voice and he obeyed. “I am a thief and a liar and a murderer.” She dabbed a little more antiseptic over his wounds, then pressed a gauze pad against them and started to tape it down. “I guess I still think of myself as someone who’s stolen and lied and killed. It’s less defining.” He felt her hands touch the bruise on the back of his arm, then she moved away. “You’re done.”

“Lisa.”

She stopped where she was, the first aid kit in her hands and half-closed. She waited.

Llewelyn licked his lips and considered his words. He realized that for all of the times she had said his name, he had barely ever said hers. “I ain’t never thanked you. You’ve stayed and you didn’t have to. Thank you.”

“I told you yesterday,” she said without looking at him. “I owe a debt I intend to repay. You don’t have to thank me. I’ve been thanking you this whole time.” She finished closing the first aid kit and tucked it into one of her bags. “Breakfast?” she asked.

“In a bit,” he said as he stepped closer to her. “Lisa, look at me.” She didn’t and Llewelyn reached out to touch the back of her arm. “Lisa.” She flinched away from his touch and he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. For what I said. It weren’t kind.”

“That’s the thing,” she murmured. “You don’t have to be kind. You don’t have to thank me. You’ve done the heavy lifting of getting me here, Llewelyn. I’m not going anywhere until my debt’s paid.” He opened his mouth, but she turned and held up a finger. “You’re reminding me to not get familiar and that’s fine. You’re reminding yourself of what I am. And what I’m not.”

“And what’s that?”

Lisa smiled. “I’m a tool. A useful object to help you get from point A to point B. I’m a murderer and a thief, someone who can do what you can’t to get you and Carla Jean safely to the other side of a mess you badly need to get across.” Llewelyn frowned and tried to say something again, but she cut him off. “I am not a person. I am not a woman. I am a tool, Llewelyn. If you let me be anything but that, there is going to be trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” he asked in spite of the instinct to end the conversation, to let her be right and walk away from it.

“The kind that usually ends with a girl like me called a homewrecker,” she said in a soft voice. “I won’t do that to you and I won’t do it to Carla Jean. Don’t you go doing it to yourself.” She watched his face for a moment, then turned away again. “I have some phone calls to make. There’s a payphone on the corner. If you get breakfast, pick me up an English muffin, would you?” Before he could answer, she tucked her pistol into the back of her jeans and walked out.

***

“Dos Chicos Photographía, soy Martín.”

“Martín. It’s me.”

“Aaye, chiquita Marita! You’re alive!”

“Yeah, so far.”

“Tell me you have the cash.”

“The cabrónes left me for dead, Martín. Of course I don’t have the fucking cash.”

“Fu-ckin’ hell. Well, it’s probably better this way, chica. They’ve got some heavy duty guns looking.”

“How heavy. What have you heard, Martín?”

“Bodies have been dropping all over Texas since the deal went bad. Lots of little round holes in heads with no bullets. Either that or a bloodbath.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Why the sudden interest?”

“Just because I don’t have the cash doesn’t mean I don’t know where it is.”

“Chigurh. Anton Chigurh.”

“Fuck.”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. That’s more than enough.”

“Where are you, Maria?”

“Martín, I love you and I’ll always love you, but there’s no way I’m telling you that.”

“Then tell me your plan. What do you need?”

“I need three passports. One Canadian citizen, mine. You still have my info?”

“The picture’s a little old, but it’ll do.”

“Two American citizens, one male, 5’11”, 180 lbs, brown hair, brown eyes. One female, 5’2”, 125 lbs, blonde hair, blue eyes.”

“Names?”

“Make some up, but they’re married.”

“Chica…”

“Don’t start with me. He saved my life. I owe him.”

“I’ll need pictures.”

“I can take care of that. My hand’s still steady enough.”

“What else?”

“Information. I’m headed for San Diego and I’ll check in with you every time we stop. Let me know if it seems like he’s got us made, especially in the Odessa region.”

“I can have the papers in two, three days. Usual drop in San Diego?”

“Should be fine. Usual rate?”

“Eight for you, chica.”

“You’re a prince.”

“You need a car?”

“If you’ve got something recently chopped, I won’t say no.”

“Fifteen for the car, a good family sedan.”

“Te llamo.”

“I know. When this blows over, come visit, ¿de acuerdo? Your sobrina misses you.”

“I miss her, too. I’ll try. I have to go.”

“Maria?”

“¿Sí?”

“Don’t die.”

“No promises.”

***

Lisa set the plastic telephone back in its cradle and looked out from the phone booth, scanning the parking lot between herself and the motel. There was another phone call she still needed to make, but she was looking forward to it far less. Martín was family. The men who had hired her to escort the cash were not. If they were the ones who had put Chigurh on her tail, she needed to have them call him off again.

She closed her eyes, slipped a coin in the slot and dialed the number.

The cold voice on the other end said, “Lehman Brothers, how may I direct your call?”

“McCormick for check-in.”

“Please hold.”

She waited with her forehead against the glass. When the line picked up again, the only answer was a vague grunt. “McCormick,” she said.

“You’re dead.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“You will be.”

“I have the money. I can come in with it if you call him off.”

The voice grunted again, almost a laugh. “You think we can call him off? He’s killed four men sent to collect him so far. Nice knowin’ you, McCormick.”

The line went dead and Lisa let out an explosive “FUCK” before she slammed down the receiver again and covered her face with her hands.


	5. Chapter 5

Llewelyn walked down to the little diner that serviced the truck stop and the motel. His feet still ached from the long walk yesterday. His boots were better suited to hunting on nothing harder than hard-packed soil and the miles on asphalt had done a number on his already raw skin. He slipped into the diner and settled himself at the counter and ordered a coffee and scrambled eggs. He asked if they had English muffins and smiled when they did. As much as Lisa said he didn’t need to thank her, he was still grateful for her help.

Her words rankled, though. Of course she was a person. Of course she was a woman. She wasn’t simply a tool to be used and discarded. Llewelyn slowly chewed his eggs and drank his coffee. “Got a paper?” he asked the waitress and she nodded and handed it to him. Front page news was the multiple deaths in Terrell county including a local sheriff. He winced and read the name and had to swallow hard to make sure his eggs went down at all. He knew the man, remembered him from high school distantly as a skinny blond mop with hands and feet far too big for his lanky frame. The obit said he was class of ‘69, married with two daughters. Llewelyn noted the name and resolved to send them some of the money. He couldn’t bring the man back, but he could ease the widow’s suffering at the very least. “Killer still at large,” the article said. “And in charge,” muttered Llewelyn. He glanced up at the waitress and held up the paper, “Got another?”

“You kin have that one,” she said and he smiled his thanks.

He ordered an English muffin to go and shoveled the last of his eggs into his mouth, downed the rest of the coffee and folded the paper into his back pocket. He put down a fifty and left before the waitress could see it or offer him change. He scolded himself that he needed to be more careful with his generosity; it could still give them away if someone remembered his face. He spotted the phone booth where Lisa was still on the telephone. She held up a hand to him and he backed up out of earshot. All he caught in the conversation was, “See you soon,” and he raised his eyebrows.

“Meetin’ someone?”

“Carla Jean is going to meet us about twenty miles south of Odessa. She’s going to tell her mother she’s going shopping, then get a taxi to take her to a gas station where we’re going to collect her.” Lisa set the phone down and swiped the coin return with her finger.

“English muffin,” Llewelyn said and handed her the bag, discovered he rather liked her stunned expression. “Y’wouldn’t let me talk to her?”

“She’d get distracted and forget my instructions,” Lisa replied as she pulled out the muffin and squished out the patty of half-melted butter onto its surface. “She loves you like there’s no tomorrow, Llewelyn and if someone doesn’t keep an eye on her, she might not get one.” She bit into the English muffin and started walking back toward their motel room. “How much ammo did you buy?”

“Two boxes of double-ought,” he answered as he fell into step. “Two boxes for the pistol. Why?”

“We might need more.” Lisa glanced at her watch and reached for the door to the room, then realized she had walked out without the key. Llewelyn smirked at her and opened the door without a word. “How are your feet?”

“Sore but I changed the bandages.” He studied her for a minute, then shrugged. “We can stop for more ammo if you think we need it. Hitchhiking again?”

“No.” Lisa pulled out her bag and packed it carefully before slinging it over her shoulder and picking up the second bag of cash. “We need a car.”

***

Llewelyn was surprised to find himself following Lisa up the driveway of a small house near the center of town. There was a ‘72 Cadillac sitting on the lawn with a For Sale sign under the wipers and Lisa had a determined look on her face. In a few quick exchanges, she had determined from the half-asleep night-shift nurse that the car ran well enough but would need work before too much longer and had talked the man down to $50 from $180. As he handed over the title and Lisa handed him the cash, the man seemed almost bemused and Llewelyn hoped he wouldn’t wake up for his next shift angry to discover he’d let his car go for so little.

“You got a plate I can borrow?” Lisa asked the man. “Just to get me to the DMV?”

“You surrender it when you get there?” She nodded and he shrugged. “Go ahead and leave that one. Sticker’s expired but Jerry don’t check stickers until they’re a year out.”

“My thanks.” Lisa accepted the keys and waved as the nurse vanished back inside and they walked down to the Caddy on the lawn. “I love Texas. Pay in cash and you’re probably trustworthy. Probably.” She slung her bags into the back seat and slipped in behind the wheel with a sigh. “I’ve always loved a Cadillac,” she murmured and turned to grin at Llewelyn as he climbed into the passenger seat. She turned the key and the engine choked to life with an asthmatic wheeze.

“Is this gonna make it to Odessa?” Llewelyn asked warily.

Lisa put the car in gear and rolled it down the lawn and onto the road. “If it doesn’t, we’re only out fifty bucks. We can hitchhike from there.”

“When Carla Jean’s with us, we won’t be hitchhikin’ anymore, right?”

“Nobody will pick up three people,” Lisa said. “If this doesn’t make it as far as Odessa, I’ll pick something up once we have her.”

Llewelyn leaned his head against the headrest and considered the ceiling for a moment as Lisa navigated their way out of town. She fiddled with the radio for a while until she found something to her taste, a rock station out of Austin that faded in and out of reception every time they dipped below a hill. She hummed when she knew the song. Hearing her voice like that made him smile; she had a nice singing voice. Her words still drifted in his head: “The kind that usually ends with a girl like me called a homewrecker.” Homewrecker. Could you wreck a home when there wasn’t a home anymore? He knew the definition but still had trouble processing what his assigning her personhood had to do with his marriage.

“You should sleep if you can,” Lisa said quietly. “I can find the way.”

“Thanks.” He sank deeper into the seat and reclined the back, pulled his hat down over his eyes and let out a long sigh. He did manage to slip into a light doze and as he did, he realized she had switched from humming when she knew the song to singing. He loved her voice, he decided and let the nap take him.

***

Llewelyn started to snore softly about ten miles outside of Odessa and Lisa smiled to herself. She wondered what life would look like once this was over. Because she was determined to survive this, determined to see the Mosses alive until the end. If she had to kill Chigurh herself, Llewelyn and Carla Jean would survive.

She thought about what she knew of the assassin known as Anton Chigurh. No one seemed to know what he looked like and no one was sure where he was from, but it was generally agreed that he was foreign in some way or another. From what she had heard, he preferred surprise attacks and weapons rather than killing with his hands: his victims were found shot with any variety of guns or with the perfectly round hole in the forehead that no one she knew could identify.

She herself was proficient in most firearms and three different forms of martial arts. Special Ops had been good to her. She glanced at Llewelyn’s sleeping form and sighed. “Stayin’ alive,” she murmured under her breath. The rest of the drive took only a little time and she poked Llewelyn in the thigh when she took the turn toward the gas station she had identified for Carla Jean. “We’re here.”

He sat up suddenly and pulled his hat back on his head, eyes searching. When he saw the little blonde figure and her single suitcase, his face broke into a brilliant grin. Lisa smiled to herself and tried to ignore the pang of jealousy she felt in her chest. That kind of affection was something she had never experienced, neither given nor received. She pulled the car into a parking space and busied herself with setting the parking brake and checking the gauges to allow Llewelyn time to hug his wife. Lisa could hear the younger woman’s voice in a string of pings and warbles alternating with Llewelyn’s steady bass as he calmed her. She took her time getting out of the car and then leaned on the front fender until Carla Jean’s voice reached her: “Thank you so much, Lisa.” Before she had a chance to brace herself, Carla Jean’s arms wrapped around her and Lisa found herself engulfed in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re both okay. Llewelyn said you’ve been keepin’ him in line.”

“Much as anyone can,” Lisa managed. She paused and then returned Carla Jean’s hug, surprised by the lump in her throat. “I know this has been hard on you and it’s not over yet. The farther we are from your mother and the less she knows, the safer she’ll be.”

“She ain’t even my mother,” Carla Jean said with a small smile. “She just raised me. She’s my grandma.” She hugged Lisa again and put her head on the other woman’s shoulder. “She’s got cancer, Lisa. I ain’t gonna see her again, am I?”

Lisa winced and put her hand gently against Carla Jean’s hair. “Probably not, honey.” Carla Jean’s shoulders started to shake as she sucked in a breath and struggled not to cry. “Shh, shh,” Lisa whispered and stroked her hair, rocking her. She met Llewelyn’s eyes over Carla Jean’s shoulder and he gave her a sympathetic frown. “Don’ worry. You’ve got Llewelyn. He’ll take care of you.”

Carla Jean curled one hand tightly in Lisa’s shirt and she blinked in surprise and the clinging gesture. “I got you, too. Right?”

Lisa chuckled, “Of course you’ve got me. You’ve got me until everything’s free and clear and you don’t have to worry about anything again.” Llewelyn came and sat next to her on the fender of the car, reaching to draw Carla Jean back into his arms. “I’m your fairy godmother,” Lisa added with a smile and brushed a strand of hair out of the younger woman’s eyes. Carla Jean sniffed and leaned her head on Llewelyn’s shoulder with a little smile. “I have one quick call,” she said to him, “and then we can get going.”

“Want me to drive for a while?” Llewelyn asked as he stood up again and pulled Carla Jean with him.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Lisa smiled at him.

“Will you tell me?”

“Do you guys always talk in questions?” Carla Jean interrupted.

Llewelyn and Lisa looked at each other for a second and then he laughed and pulled his wife close again. “Missed you, baby.”

“Missed you, too, Llewelyn.”

Lisa smiled at them and stepped away, angling for the payphone. She walked without looking back but listened to them talking and wished someone missed her like that. She dropped a coin into the phone and dialed Martín’s number and leaned her forehead on the glass while she listened to it ring.

“Dos Chicos Photographia, soy Martín,” his voice came over the line.

“It’s me.”

“You sound tired, chiquita Marita.”

She smiled. “I am tired. Heard anything?”

“Another hole in the forehead outside of Del Rio,” he said quietly. “Virginia businessman.”

“Shit.”

“Thought he might be someone you knew.”

“Might as well have shot him myself.” Lisa closed her eyes and sighed. “Water under the bridge. Was he it?”

There was a long pause before Martín said, “Santa Maria, I’m not sure you’re gonna make it to San Diego. Chigurh isn’t the only one after you. There was a shoot-out at a motel in Del Rio last night. Half a dozen cabrones with automatics and shotguns.” He paused again and his voice was rough when he continued, “Es mi hermana, Maria. Deja que te ayude. ¿Donde estan?”

“Don’t call me that,” Lisa whispered. “It’s not my name.”

“Maria, I just met a girl named Maria,” Martín sang softly and she could hear his smile. “Te llamo. Mi hermana, Alissa Maria. Ven a casa, chiquita. Por favor.”

Lisa swallowed hard. “No te lo traeré, Martín.” The phone requested more money and she put another dime in. Most of the time was getting eaten just listening to each other breathe. “Te llamo, hermano. Quiero ver a casa.” Movement caught her eye and she straightened up, wiping at her face when she saw Llewelyn approaching slowly. “I have to go.”

“Maria--”

“I have to go, Martín. I’ll call when we’re closer.” She hung up, swiped the coin return from habit, looked out at Llewelyn as he stopped just outside the booth. “What,” she said, harsher than she had intended and flatly without emotion.

“We’re ready when you are,” he said. “I can still drive.”

Lisa sighed and closed the booth after her, headed for the car. “I can drive.”

Llewelyn touched the back of her arm and she pulled away from him. “Let me drive, Lisa. Tell me where we’re headin’ and let me drive for a while.”

“El Paso,” she said. “Take an illogical route.” She walked past Carla Jean without looking at her, crawled into the back seat of the Caddy and curled up with her face against the back of the seat.

They stood for a few seconds in silence, then Lisa heard them getting into the front of the car. Llewelyn started the car. Carla Jean fiddled with the radio, settled on a country station that made Lisa’s skin crawl. She closed her eyes hard, but that only brought Martín’s smile, his daughter’s bright eyes.

She did her best to muffle the tears until she fell asleep.

***

“Llewelyn?”

“Yes, Carla Jean?”

Carla Jean fell silent, watching the road as it vanished under the hood of the car. Llewelyn smiled to himself; her silences were as familiar as her voice. When they had realized that Lisa was crying in the backseat, she had turned up the radio just enough to cover the sound, to give the other woman privacy in her tears. He truly had missed her deep down in his chest, couldn’t imagine his life without her anymore.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“What kind of question is that to be askin’ me?” His voice was steady but his heart hammered. Actions and wishes weren’t the same things.

“The kind any wife asks her husband when he’s been outta her sight with a pretty girl long enough.” She shifted her hips and crossed her arms over her chest, rested her head on the side of the window. “Did you?”

“Slept next to her,” he said quietly. “Double was cheaper than two singles. Weren’t my decision.” He darted his eyes to her and returned his gaze to the road. “You think I’d cheat on you, Carla Jean? You really think that?”

“Don’t know what to think,” she replied. “Wouldn’a thought you’d bring home this kind of trouble neither.” She was quiet for a while, then said, “I love you, Llewelyn, but I don’ know if I believe you.”

“I ever said something to you that weren’t true?”

“How would I know?”

Llewelyn sighed. “If I don’ want you to know something, I won’ tell you. I ain’t never lied to you, Carla Jean. Not once.”

His wife didn’t answer for a long time. When she did, he could hear the tears she was fighting to keep down. “I wanna believe you. Tell me truthful an’ don’ leave anything out. What have you been doin’?”

He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, thinking. “First place we stopped in Del Rio, we got two singles. She teased me for it. She ain’t got much shame, to be honest, but I didn’t look when she got out of the shower. She walked in when I was showerin’ and I threw her out again.” He checked on her out of the corner of his eye and winced when he saw the tears rolling down his wife’s face. “I ain’t touched her, Carla Jean. And she ain’t touched me but to dress my shoulder. She slept next to me last night and kept her hands to herself. I did the same.” He took a second to take his eyes off the road and meet hers when she turned her head. “I love you, Carla Jean. I married you. You’re it for me.” She closed her eyes and tears slipped down her face until she wiped them away.

“She’s just… prettier ‘n me and she knows more,” she whispered. “She’s good at this, isn’t she?”

“She ain’t prettier than you,” he snorted. “She is good at this, but that’s because this is her life. This is her world, not yours. Not mine. We don’t belong here and we’re just passin’ through.” They were quiet together for a few more miles before he added softly, “You told me not to leave nothing out. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t think about her like that. But thinkin’ ain’t doin’ and I didn’t do anything.”

Carla Jean turned to study his profile, then asked just as quietly, “Would you? If I said I didn’ care?”

He thought about it. He thought about her smile, the flirty pout she had given him at least once and had put on for the Virginian. He thought about her strong hands, efficient and steady in tending his wounds. He thought about the way her hair smelled and the way she had grinned at him when she was teasing him. He thought about the curve of her body against his back, warm and soft and ready to spring to action out of the deepest sleep. “Don’ matter,” he said firmly. “You do care an’ that’s all that matters.”

“You would.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No.” Carla Jean shifted to rest her head against the door again. “An’ if you don’ want me to know somethin’, you just don’ tell me.”

Llewelyn closed his eyes briefly and sighed. They didn’t speak until El Paso.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings for graphic violence and references to rape.

“Don’t wake her.”

“I’m tryin’ not to.”

Strong hands lifted her shoulders, slid her out of the car. Lisa mumbled softly, resisting consciousness. She felt herself shifted and moved until an arm tucked behind her knees while the other wrapped her torso. She leaned her head onto a shoulder and smelled hotel soap and antiseptic and the faint scent of aftershave. “Got her?”

“I got her. Get the door.” Stuffy motel room air made her twitch. “Shhhh, go back to sleep.” She could feel the bed as Llewelyn set her down and she shifted to open her eyes and glare at him. He glared back. “Just tryin’ to do somethin’ nice. You looked tired.”

“Nice to know my looks and my sounds are consistent,” she grumbled and sat up. “Where are we?”

“Horizon City,” Llewelyn said. “Just outside of El Paso.” He crossed to the other bed and sat down on the edge while Carla Jean opened her suitcase on the rack nearby. “Mind cluing us in on the next steps, boss?”

“Boss,” Lisa chuckled and rubbed her hands over her face. “Is that who I am now?”

“You’re kind of holding all the cards.”

Lisa sighed and swung her legs to the side of her bed. “Okay. Let’s be square about what’s going on, then. Carla Jean, you in?”

“Guess so,” she said nervously and came to Llewelyn when he held out his arms for her.

“Right now, we’re sitting on 2.4 million dollars, give or take the couple hundred we’ve spent so far,” Lisa said and leaned her elbows on her knees. “It originated in the United States with a company I won’t go into detail on. Just believe me when I say you’re better off not knowing much about them.” She paused to study them both and rubbed her hands together slowly. “I was hired as an intermediary. A neutral party to smooth the transaction. I have contacts and a reputation with the Mexican drug cartels as an honest dealer. The Americans knew I could be purchased at a comfortable sum to also protect their interests. The money was my job. I was to bring it to the swap from the American side and accompany it back to the Mexican jefe.”

“You said--” Carla Jean started in confusion, but Llewelyn interrupted her with a kiss on the temple.

“Shh, baby. Let her finish.”

Lisa smiled thinly and nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry for misleading you, Carla Jean. I let you think they were selling me. In effect, they were trading me for the drugs, but not in a possessive way. I’m more like the mule carrying the gold if that mule also had a pack of wild dogs attached. Transport and protection. They would let me go when I’d turned over the money to the jefe.” She shifted and took in their expressions slowly. “The tracker was my idea. My equipment. If they placed anything beyond my measures, I don’t know about it.”

Llewelyn frowned. “That’s why you found it so fast.”

Lisa nodded. “I knew I had to get rid of it. They had at least one receiver, probably two. If the Americans gave one to their assassin and one to the Mexicans, we are going to have to be very careful moving forward.”

“But the tracker’s gone,” Llewelyn said.

“They know who you are now,” Lisa answered. “To get out of this, Llewelyn and Carla Jean Moss are going to have to die.” When Carla Jean’s face started to fold in on itself in terror, Lisa held up one hand. “I’ve got a friend working on that,” she said quickly. “He’s making us passports to get across into Canada. New identities, fresh start. I have contacts in Alberta who can get you guys set up there and help me wipe down your trail.”

“But.” Llewelyn raised his eyebrows emphatically, waiting for the rest of her news.

Lisa smiled. “Too damn smart for your own good, Llewelyn.” He shrugged. “But we have to survive that long. They have at least two parties following us, one an assassin with a reputation for relentless cruelty, the other a chaotic band of Mexicans from the cartel. On one side, we have Chigurh’s cold, calculated, constant pace. He’s practically inevitable. On the other side, we have people who will open fire into a crowd to hit their target and call the bystanders collateral damage.”

“Sugar?”

Lisa chuckled. “Anton Chigurh is the assassin. I don’t know much about him beyond his name and his reputation. Part of that reputation is that anyone who sees him doesn’t survive to describe him.” Her eyes hardened and she gave Llewelyn a grim smile. “I aim to be the one who does.”

“Wait,” gasped Carla Jean, “you mean you’re going to go up against this guy? Lisa, he’ll kill you!”

“Not without a fight,” she answered softly. “The Mexicans will give up eventually when the trail goes cold. Chigurh would keep hunting until he has killed everyone who ever knew you, anyone who ever helped me. Only way to get clear of him is to stop him. And I aim to do exactly that.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” Llewelyn asked in a low voice.

“Force a showdown.” She shrugged. “I’ll figure out the details later and the less you know about it, the better off you’ll be.”

“You could let me help.”

Lisa nodded. “I could. If I wanted you dead, which I don’t. No, you’re better off heading for the border and I’ll take care of Chigurh.”

“Dammit, Lisa!” Llewelyn snapped and Carla Jean jumped. “I spent two tours in Vietnam. I know how to handle pressure an’ you could use the help. You know I’m--”

The telephone rang.

They all turned and stared at it and Lisa glanced at the horror on Llewelyn’s face. “I take it you didn’t call anyone,” she said quietly.

“Hell, no.”

Slowly, Lisa picked up the phone and held it to her ear without speaking. “Outside call,” the man at the desk said calmly and the phone switched lines.

“Huyas.”

Lisa slammed the phone down and grabbed for Carla Jean’s suitcase. “Out, now,” she snapped when the Mosses looked at her in confusion. “NOW.” At the urgency in her voice, they scrambled around her, grabbing what little they had brought inside and following her out into the parking lot. Gunfire made Lisa dart for cover and Carla Jean screamed, only to have her husband slap a hand over her mouth. When she got to the car, Lisa let out an angry string of swears in Spanish. “Tires are slashed.” She scanned the parking lot for another vehicle, then spotted a big rig hunkered on the far side. “Run for the truck,” she said, pointing. “Take cover.”

“What about you?” Llewelyn asked as he pulled his shotgun free of the bag.

“I’m seeing to transportation.” She waved a hand at them. “Go, go.” When they were sprinting for the rig, she watched for muzzle flashes. When someone took a shot at the Mosses, she fired back carefully, targeting the location, each time with an answering yelp or cuss. When she was sure the guns were going to stay low for a few minutes, she sprinted for a car she had seen at the far end of the parking lot, a scrawny-looking Nissan T-top. A few bullets flew in her direction, but mostly she could see them circling for the Mosses. This many shooters had to be the Mexican cartel. She glared and then threw herself into the Nissan, wriggled under the dash and began matching wires until the engine started. When it roared to life, she threw it in gear and spun the wheel to bring her nose to the bushes where most of the gunfire had been coming from. An automatic strafed her windshield, shattering the glass and she floored the accelerator, tearing across the parking lot. She saw a few bodies flinging themselves out of the bushes and spun the wheel again to chase them. When she had a good shot, she dropped two of them with the pistol and sprang out to join Llewelyn and Carla Jean. “Into the cab,” she said quickly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Llewelyn groaned, staring at the big rig. “We ain’t going anywhere in this beast.”

“Trust me.” Lisa reloaded the pistol, her eyes still looking for the rest of the Mexicans. She waited until Llewelyn had gotten Carla Jean inside, then hollered in Spanish, “Hey! Fuckers! You want to talk this out or do I have to kill some more people?” More gunfire answered her and she ducked around the truck to shoot another of their men between the eyes. “You know who I am,” she added.

“We know,” a voice came back. “You’re Typhoon Mary.”

Lisa chuckled. “That works. You know what I can do.”

“We know you have our money.”

“You know who else thinks that money belongs to them?”

There was a long pause during which Lisa carefully took note of where the rest of their men were hiding. They were down to only four or five now. “They’re wrong,” the same voice called out.

“Well, not exactly. Technically, you gave up that money when you took the drugs back.”

“We didn’t take the drugs back. Your people took the drugs. One of ours had the money when he died. It’s ours.”

Lisa nodded. It was a surprisingly logical argument from drug runners. “The money stopped being his when he stopped breathing. It became mine then, as the last survivor of your side.”

“You’re not our side.”

Lisa bristled and hissed in the regional Spanish she was used to using when she talked with Martín, “The fuck I’m not your side. I’m my own side, brother. Back the fuck off or more of you cowards will die.” The silence that answered her was profoundly satisfying.

After a few more moments, the answer came back: “Fine. You claim the cash. Your job was to deliver it on our side. Deliver it and be done with the deal.”

“The job changed,” she growled. “It changed when you put your hands on me. It changed when you said I was part of the payment instead of the messenger.” There was a soft answering laugh and she stood to snarl in English, “The fucking job changed when you raped me, asshole.” She shot into the brush at the side of the lot and two men died. She heard the main negotiator swearing frantically as he tried to escape and she shot him in the base of his skull. Two more men were scrambling for cover and she shot one of them in the stomach, the other low in his spine. The gutshot man screamed and clutched at his belly, rocking in agony until she walked over to end him with a shot to the head. Calmly, Lisa stood over the man she’d paralyzed and reloaded her pistol before kicking him onto his back and leveling the .45 at his face. “Reap the fucking whirlwind.”

In the cab of the truck, Llewelyn cradled Carla Jean’s head to his shoulder, whispering softly, “Don’ look, baby. Just don’t look.” They both flinched when the final shot rang out.

***

Lisa rooted the driver of the truck out of his hiding place above the cab and convinced him to drive them to his next delivery without telling anyone they were there. He agreed after a long stare at Lisa’s pistol and the five bills Llewelyn handed him. There was enough room in the sleeper cab to let two of them sleep up top while the third road with the driver. Lisa sent Llewelyn and Carla Jean up to sleep first and settled beside the driver with a smile and the .45 resting on her knees.

“Bad guys,” the driver said quietly when they were a few hours out from San Diego.

“Yup,” Lisa agreed quietly.

“They really--”

“Yup.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve had worse.”

His eyes slipped to the side to study her profile in the dim light of the dash. “Damn, girl. You’re tough as nails. Where you from?”

Lisa smiled quietly. “Nowhere.” She shifted to let her temple rest on the glass of the window. “Puerto Rico,” she said softly.

“You don’t look Puerto Rican.”

“Mother was Swedish and Irish.”

“That explains it.” They rode in silence for a while, then the trucker added, “Who’re they?”

“Innocent bystanders.”

“They seem like nice kids.”

“They are.”

“Someone’s still comin’ after you, I take it?”

“Yeah.” Lisa shifted her hips and turned to consider the driver. “I’m sorry for mixing you up in this. You seem a decent guy, but you wouldn’t be the first decent man to die because of this.”

“You think it’s likely?”

“I wouldn’t apologize if I didn’t.”

“Any clues you can give me on what to run from?”

“A guy on his own. Carries some kind of weird-looking weapon. I don’t know what it is, never seen it, but if you see a guy carrying something weird, leave.” She paused and added, “You got family?”

“Yeah. Wife, son.”

“Give me the address,” Lisa half-whispered. “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

The driver turned his head to look at her, then smiled. “Thank you.”

He slowed to a stop at a truck stop just outside of San Diego and Lisa crawled to the space over the cab to wake the Mosses. Llewelyn was already awake, his eyes glittering in the dim light as he held his wife to his chest and his hand resting on the grip of his shotgun. Carla Jean came awake more slowly and they all thanked the driver as he left. Llewelyn urged Carla Jean ahead to order them coffee and breakfast while he stood outside in the crisp desert air with Lisa. “He’s a dead man, ain’t he?”

“Probably.”

“Like the guy from the motel?”

“Yeah.”

“What outfit?”

Lisa was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “5th Airborne.”

Llewelyn stared at her. “There are no women in Special Forces.”

She smiled.

They stood quietly for a few minutes before Llewelyn said, “They raped you.” Lisa nodded. “How can you still want to mess around?”

Lisa looked at him very seriously. “What they did to me does not remove my sexuality. Getting in a car wreck doesn’t keep you from driving, does it? Food poisoning doesn’t keep you from eating. Sex is a form of expression for me. What they did was not sex. What they did was a beating. Abuse. Control.” She made a face and briefly spit on the pavement. “They can’t take my sexuality from me. That is mine and I choose how to use it.”

“How are you even real?” he whispered.

Lisa smiled. “Who says I am?”

***

“Hat off,” Lisa sighed in exasperation.

“I ain’t showered in two days,” Llewelyn protested.

“They wouldn’t let you keep it on for a passport photo. Take it off.”

He rolled his eyes and took off the hat, scrubbed his fingers through his hair in a desperate attempt to make it look normal, then sat on the stool in the photo booth. “Okay, fine.”

“Hold still and don’t smile.”

“Damned mugshot.”

“Everyone looks like a criminal in their passport photo.”

The lights flashed in Llewelyn’s face and he grunted annoyance. Two more times and he crawled out again, his expression grumpy. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.” Lisa tucked the strip of photos into her pocket. “Carla Jean, you’re up.” The younger girl obeyed without complaint and Lisa took her strip of photos as well.

“What about you?” Llewelyn asked.

“Mine’s already done. My guy has my photo.” She strolled on to collect the rest of her supplies from a craft store. “These will hold up to a general pass, but if anyone looks real close, we’re screwed. There’s only so much I can do with laminating film and an Xacto knife.”

“Lisa?” Carla Jean had been quiet for most of the last two days, barely speaking to Llewelyn even. Lisa looked up from comparing the quality of the laminating film. “How do you know all of this?”

“Family business,” Lisa replied as she returned to the rack of supplies.

“Stop lyin’ to me!” Carla Jean cried and grabbed Lisa’s shoulder to turn her. “I know yer lyin’ and I hate it. Yer treatin’ me like a child!”

Lisa stared at her in silence and Carla Jean subsided. “You done?” she asked in a low voice. Carla Jean nodded without looking at her. “Good. I’ve told you what you need to know, Carla Jean.” She reached and brushed the younger woman’s hair back. “Why would you want to know the worst?”

“Because I thought you were a friend,” Carla Jean whispered, “an’ now I’m not so sure.”

Lisa watched her in silence, then pulled her into a hug. Carla Jean let her, stiff at first, then melting into a returning embrace. “I am a friend,” Lisa whispered. “You know why?” Carla Jean shook her head. “Because you assumed I was broken when your husband brought me home and you promised to take care of me. You chose to protect someone you didn’t know, without any idea what you were protecting her from. You could have seen me as a threat, a rival, any number of things. You saw someone to take care of and did it without question, Carla Jean. You were my friend first. Let me return the favor.”

Carla Jean hitched in a nervous sob and then hugged Lisa tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m tryin’.”

“I know, baby.” Lisa stroked her hair and met Llewelyn’s eyes over her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Lisa sat on the bench overlooking the San Diego Zoo, her head back on the edge of the back-rest and her hands folded in her lap. The pistol snuggled into the small of her back, occasionally digging in when she moved. She had always loved the zoo. As she watched, she managed to pick out the striped yellow-and-black stocking cap that she had given her niece for Christmas several years ago. Regardless of the weather, she never went anywhere without that hat, her bee-hat. Buzz buzz.

As she watched, the young girl in the bee-striped hat paused beside a garbage can and stuffed something inside, holding it up to stick against the inside of the lid. Martín’s daughter glanced around briefly, then vanished back into the crowd.

Fifteen years old and already a practiced criminal.

Lisa closed her eyes and counted out her minutes. When she reached eighteen minutes, she stood up and ambled down to the admission stand to buy a ticket. She paid in cash, walked around the zoo and smiled at the penguins, the lions, the families. She bought a hot dog with relish and extra mustard. When she was finished, she stopped at the garbage can and threw away her wrapper, slipping her free hand in after it to pull down the envelope of passports. The envelope went into her shirt and she continued her contented wander through the zoo.

Back at the hotel, she found Carla Jean asleep in a heap on the bed while Llewelyn flipped channels on the TV with the sound off. He had one arm around his wife, his hand in her hair as she slept. Lisa smiled at him when he looked up and locked the door behind her and sat at the desk. She quietly spread out her supplies and the passports, turned on the desk lamp and settled in to put the finishing touches on Martín’s excellent work. When she was smoothing bubbles from under the laminating film, Llewelyn asked, “Where are you from, Lisa?”

“San Juan,” she replied without looking up.

“I thought you spoke Spanish with an accent.”

“Only when I’m being lazy.” Lisa sealed the edge of the passport and set it aside to begin the next one. “Why?”

“Curious.”

“About?”

Llewelyn let the silence stretch for a moment, then said, “You.”

“Don’t be.”

“Why not?”

Lisa finished the cut on the edge of the photo booth picture of Llewelyn and threw the remainder of the photo paper away. “I won’t be in your life long enough for it to matter.” The room settled into silence again, but it was a strained silence. After she had finished placing the picture, Lisa sighed and looked up. “What?”

Llewelyn stared at her, his eyes dark and steady and unwavering. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually,” Lisa chuckled and returned her attention to the passport.

“You don’t.” The bed creaked and Lisa looked up to see Llewelyn working his way out from under Carla Jean’s head. Lisa sighed and turned back to the passport when he walked over to her and knelt beside her. “Lisa, look at me.”

“I need to finish this, Llewelyn.”

“It’ll keep a minute.”

“It will,” she agreed in a soft voice, “but I won’t. I don’t want to talk about what I think you want to talk about.”

“What is it I want to talk about, then?”

Lisa pressed her lips together in a tight line and used her Xacto knife to adjust the photo a tiny amount. “Let me be a tool, Moss. Don’t let me be a person in your mind.”

“That’s bull,” he growled and Lisa turned sharply in her chair to wave the knife under his nose.

“It is not bull. It’s practicality. I told you before. I’m committed to getting you both clear of this and then my debt’s paid. I can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

Lisa stared at him with a helpless little droop of her shoulders. “Why would I, Llewelyn? Why would you want me to? I’m a criminal, a murderer, and a thief. There’s no place in--” She broke off with a gasp when Llewelyn darted forward and kissed her. His mouth was hard at first, insistent and determined before it softened and drew her forward, his hands coming up to frame her face.

He yelped in pain and withdrew, clutching his left hand in his right. “What the hell?”

Lisa held very still, her eyes closed and her body tense. His blood was on the Xacto knife and she didn’t want to look at it or at him. “There is no place in your life for me,” she said in a low voice. “Let it go.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Carla Jean’s voice drifted to them from the bed as she sat up, her face still muddled with sleep.

“Nothin’, baby,” Llewelyn said and had to clear his throat to make himself heard. “Papercut. Go back to sleep.” Carla Jean waited a moment, then lay back down and subsided. He and Lisa studied each other, then Llewelyn brought the cut on his hand to his lips, licked the blood and put pressure over the gash with his fingertips.

Lisa sighed in irritation. “Don’t just lick it,” she grumbled and stood up to get the first aid kit. “Your mouth is filthy and I’ve been cutting plastic and glue with that knife.” When she returned to sit facing him and pulled out the antiseptic, her eyes met Llewelyn’s and she froze. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Llewelyn whispered.

“Like you want to kiss me again.”

“An’ if I do?”

“Go kiss your wife.” Lisa grabbed at his hand and dabbed at the cut a little harder than necessary so he winced.

“You were all fired up to flirt when it made me uncomfortable,” he growled under his breath.

“Yeah, well,” Lisa finished cleaning the wound and covered it with a bandage, “maybe I’ve got more respect for you now. Since I’ve got this shit out, I should check your shoulder. I don’t want that infection to get worse.” Llewelyn waited, still watching her. When he unbuttoned his shirt, he didn’t turn away and his eyes stayed on her face. Lisa glared at him. “Turn around, Llewelyn,” she whispered. He didn’t and Lisa closed her eyes, frustrated. “Please.”

She waited until she heard his movement before opening her eyes. Lisa closed her fingers, then opened them again and peeled the bandage from his shoulder. Most of the cuts looked like they were healing well, but two still remained red and angry. She cleaned the whole wound carefully, then took a few moments with the bright light of the desk lamp to examine the infected cuts. “It isn’t bad,” she murmured. “Worse than I’d like, but we can probably get away without stopping for antibiotics.”

Llewelyn didn’t answer. He remained silent and still until she finished putting a new bandage over his skin. When she moved away, he stayed where he was, his head still down. “Done?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“Yes,” Lisa whispered.

He shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders, buttoned his shirt, and pushed himself up to his feet. Without speaking, he walked over to the door of the room, then paused and looked at Lisa. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Lisa’s eyes darted to where Carla Jean still slept on the bed, apparently oblivious to their conversation. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said softly.

“Please.” Llewelyn watched her and the ache his expression made Lisa look away again. “Don’t make me beg.”

“No one’s making you,” Lisa replied coolly. When he didn’t look away, she sighed and tilted her head to study him. “Llewelyn, what do you think you’re going to accomplish? You’re only going to hurt your wife and she deserves better than that.”

“I just want to talk for a second,” he whispered.

Lisa stood up from her chair with a quiet sigh and crossed the room to follow him outside. Llewelyn paced across the parking lot until they were on the far side of the car she had picked up from Martín’s drop off. When she joined him in the shadow of the car, she waited silently, her legs braced and her jaw set. She had left the knife inside this time.

Llewelyn turned back to face her. “What changed?” he asked in a low voice. “It weren’t that long ago you were makin’ eyes at me.”

“And you were more than ready for me to quit,” Lisa reminded him. “You’re the one who kept telling me you’re married. If anything, I should be asking you what changed.” They stood quietly for a while, then she whispered, “So, what did?”

After a moment, Llewelyn stepped closer to her and Lisa retreated against the side of the car. “You flinched,” he said. “I called you a murderer and you flinched. I tried to apologize and you told me not to think of you as a woman an’ now I can’t think of you as anything else.” He reached and ran his hand slowly along her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You might be the only reason I'm still alive," he whispered. "That means something."

"It means I'm doing my job," Lisa replied. She closed her eyes and tried to push away from him, her hands on his chest. Instead, he leaned closer and she didn't have the discipline to resist when he slipped his fingers deeper into her hair, drew her forward and kissed her again. She didn't pull away from him this time and gave in. Llewelyn sighed softly as he kissed her and Lisa finally started to respond, her own mouth softening as she ran her hands up his chest and around his shoulders. He leaned in toward her, gently pressed her back against the car and she pulled him even closer until no space remained between them but their clothes. Lisa tipped her head back as Llewelyn started to kiss his way down her jaw and neck and she whispered, "Stop. Please. I don't want this."

"You're lying," he whispered back, his breath a rush on her skin. "You can't fool me, Lisa."

Lisa huffed in frustration and held back a soft moan when his hands slid down her sides to her hips. "I want you," she whispered. "That's obvious. What I don't want is to hurt your wife, to hurt your chance for happiness outside of this fucking nightmare. Llewelyn, you deserve better and so does she."

Llewelyn sighed and leaned his face against her neck for a moment. "I don' deserve a thing," he murmured. "But you ain't wrong about Carla Jean. She does deserve better." He turned his head and lightly pressed his cheek to hers. "I still want you," he whispered. "I still see you. You're still a person, a woman an' I can't let go of that."

"You should," she sighed and pushed him away. "You should go back to your wife. I should get a different room."

"That's--"

"Prudent," Lisa interrupted him. "It removes the tension. It removes the temptation for light touches in passing. It lets you have time alone with Carla Jean, your wife whom you love and away from the lobo who's moving you across the Canadian border."

Llewelyn looked at her for a long moment. "Is that what you are?" he asked softly. "A lobo? A wolf?" His eyes were sad and Lisa turned away from him, pushed past him so she could start walking toward the motel office.

"Better a wolf than a homewrecker."

The sound of a car's tires on gravel drew both of their attention and Lisa lifted her head, suddenly wary. "Get down," she hissed at Llewelyn. He hesitated and she pushed him sharply below the line of the car's roof. Another car, low-rider with a t-top rolled to a stop without parking and Lisa's lips curled back from her teeth. "Fuck."

"What is it?" Llewelyn asked in alarm.

"Someone found us."

"How can you tell?"

The stopped car shifted into park and the driver got out. A canister of compressed air tapped against the ground near his foot and Lisa let herself curse in a few languages before she slapped at her lower back for the pistol she had left on the bed. "Shit," she whispered. "My guns in the room."

"How can you tell, Lisa?" Llewelyn demanded and she glared him into silence.

"Stay here," she hissed and pointed to the pavement at his feet. Without waiting for an acknowledgment, she started to creep across the parking lot toward where the t-top was parked. The driver had advanced to the room beside theirs and was examining the knob and lock. He lifted the barrel of the gun attached to the compressed air and pressed it over the cylinder of the lock. Just as he released the bolt, Lisa darted forward and tried to get a decent grip on the man's head, intending to snap his neck before he could react.

Chigurh rocked away from her, genuinely surprised to find an attacker so close and coming from this angle. Without a word, he swung the bolt gun around and pointed it at her. "My quarrel isn't with you," he informed her softly. "You can walk away as far as I'm concerned. Take the girl and walk away."

"I can't do that," Lisa replied evenly. Her eyes scanned over the assassin quickly and then she rolled to the side when the hand holding the air canister snapped out with a sawed-off shotgun dropping out of his sleeve. He shot at her with a blast of noise but she was already under a neighboring car. She could hear Llewelyn's voice as he yelled for her and cursed herself for leaving him unguarded. When the door to their room opened and Carla Jean looked out in bewilderment, she swore aloud and rushed at Chigurh again. "Get down!" she shouted at Carla Jean as Chigurh started to turn toward her and Lisa stabbed her rigid fingers into his throat. He choked and staggered, fired the shotgun again at her. She felt it rip into her ribs this time, but he went down before she did and she rolled away to sprint for the room.

"Get the guns," she gasped as she tumbled inside. "The money. Get whatever you can grab. We have to run. Now." Carla Jean gave a little scream at the sight of Lisa's blood on her clothes but turned when Lisa pointed and brought her the pistol. Llewelyn came in at a scramble. "Is he still down?"

"He's gone," Llewelyn said breathlessly. "That's who's followin' us?"

"One of them," Lisa replied as she checked the ammo on the pistol and stuffed it back into her waistband. "God, I wish you were somewhere else."

"Thanks," Llewelyn grumbled.

"Not you," she hissed and looked back at Carla Jean. "Carla Jean, I love you dearly right now, but you're a liability." The younger woman stood up straighter and her eyes were somewhere between angry and tearful. "You need to go somewhere else. I can get my brother to come for you, keep you safe. He knows how best to contact me when I go deep."

"An' you expect me to trust you?" Carla Jean demanded, but her eyes were on Llewelyn. This time, her husband looked away. "How can I trust you, Lisa?"

Lisa clenched her teeth and let out a long breath out her nose. "Carla Jean," she snapped. "I don't care if you trust me or not right now. If you want to go your own way, you're welcome to. Both of you," she added, glaring at Llewelyn. "But I can assure you, this asshole will not follow me. He will follow that money. So unless you want to deal with him alone, you will do what I tell you to." Carla Jean lifted her chin defiantly and Lisa glared at her. "Do we have an understanding?"

"You touch my husband an' I'll flay you," Carla Jean growled.

Llewelyn stepped between them with an irritated sound and cupped his hands to his wife's face. "Carla Jean, look at me," he whispered. She tried to keep from looking but sniffled and finally met his eyes. "I shall return," he said with a smile. He kissed her gently and then let her go. "Lisa's right. We need you to get you somewhere safe and hidden."

"I've got calls to make," Lisa sighed. "We don't have time to argue about this. He'll be coming back and when he does, he'll be more prepared. He thought he had the drop on us, so he got sloppy." She paused to study Carla Jean's face. "Please, just trust me this far. I want you both alive and safe, Carla Jean."

Carla Jean didn't meet her eyes, but returned to the bags and finished packing their things inside. Together, the three of them slipped out of the hotel room and crept their way along the edge of the building. There was no one in the motel office but the door was open and Lisa reached to cover Carla Jean's eyes when she spotted the trail of blood. "Stay here," she whispered to Llewelyn. "I won't be long."

Martin picked up the phone immediately. "Chica."

"I need a favor," Lisa whispered.


End file.
